Beyond Feeling
by Saquoia
Summary: The hardest thing to do is let your mind make choices without the influence of your heart. Hermione's heart doesn't know what to do, and her mind is caught up in a huge catastrophe sweeping England. [Remaining Unfinished Indefinitely]
1. In A Coffee Shoppe

In a Coffee Shoppe -  
  
The sky was as dark as it could have possibly been without the world reaching its end and the heavens threatened to open up with a torrential rainfall that was close to the cataclysmic happenings of the Great Flood. Everyone, magical and non-magical alike, was forced to stay indoors, for the lightning that was streaking across the sky was powerful enough to disturb even the most powerful spells.  
  
Inside of the small town being pummeled by the horrid rain was a small coffee shop, scarcely big enough for twenty people to fit in at one time, and there were three or four people that had been stuck in the building for two or three hours now, sitting, staring out the window and occasionally asking the owner of the coffee shop to make them another brew or perhaps add another bit of topping to their cup.  
  
In one corner, however, there sat a full cup of coffee, long gone cold, that hadn't moved from its place since it had been sat down after being purchased originally. Behind the cup of coffee sat a figure that hadn't moved since they had sat down with their cup of coffee almost three hours ago.  
  
A sixteen-year-old young man sat, a sheet of silvery blonde hair hanging down onto his face, slightly masking the look upon his face, which could not be accurately described with one word. A mixture of contempt, worry, hatred and scorn had found its way onto his face, and was showing no sigh of leaving.  
  
Life had born down hard on the young life sitting here, changing the innocence he should have had for years longer and turning it to bitter feelings - hatred, anger, love, lust, revenge - all emotions, feelings, pains that could prove to bring him to the highest possible elevation, or send him careening to the pits of hell.  
  
He leaned back against his chair and sighed, letting his mind wander as it saw fit. After all, it had been a long time since he had felt like he was in control of his life. In fact, he really couldn't remember a time in his life when he had had control of his life. And he was going to change that.  
  
So much had changed in the last year. He had broken nearly every rule that had been set down for him since child hood, but he no longer cared about pitiful childhood rules because he wasn't the same person as that child had been and he didn't want to be the same person that he had been.  
  
Draco Malfoy was ready to be someone else. He wasn't exactly sure who or what that someone else was, but he knew that it would be different. Never again would be listen to his bloody father. In fact, he didn't even know what had become of his father, if he was being perfectly honest. Nor did he care.  
  
He wasn't completely sure what to think of most of the things in his life. Take his girlfriend - at least that was what he thought she was, but he wasn't sure - Hermione Granger. Two years ago he would have rather hacked his own arm off than be caught dead in the same room as her, but something had changed, and now he was not only in the same room as her, but kissing her. Think of that, a pureblood and a mudblood, kissing. His ancestors would roll over in their graves if they only knew.  
  
Draco sighed, knowing that there wasn't much he could do in that aspect of his life. It was almost as if he lost complete control over himself when he was with her. He felt like a total pansy around her, an pansy even worse than Potty or Weasel.  
  
Draco sniggered to himself. He could only imagine the lecture that Hermione would give him if she knew that was what he was thinking. Somehow it was all right for her to detest them but he had to kiss their shoes and love them like everyone else did. He wouldn't ever completely understand Hermione. Perhaps he should give up trying.  
  
Draco raised his cup to his lips and took a drink, nearly gagging on the long cold liquid. He waved the man over to his table and ordered a new drink, one that wouldn't kill him.  
  
Inhaling deeply and allowing himself to relax, Draco continued his contemplation of how much his life had changed.  
  
* * *  
  
This is a rare look into the thoughts and feelings of Draco Malfoy. I know some of you had expressed wishes that I would include his thoughts, and while I will not include them every chapter, you may get one or two more of these looks into his feelings at odd intervals in the story.  
  
What did you think? I had some time to write, so I figured now would be a good time.  
  
I will try to keep all complaints, compliments, comments and advice in mind and stay true to my writing. I am aware that I made CAPITALS way too MUCH and I am SORRY. I'll try to keep that to a minimum from now on.  
  
Anything else you want to see, I'd be glad to hear about, but there are no guarantees that I can comply.  
  
Happy Holidays, by the way!  
  
--Saquoia-- 


	2. In an Entry Window

In an Entry Way Window -  
  
Lightning flashed, illuminating a small street, completely deserted but the occupants of the small neighborhood could be seen standing by their windows or bustling in their kitchens or tucked into their beds.  
  
Further on along the streets was Privet Drive another neighborhood lay in the quilt of suburbia. In Privet Drive it was the same scene, with nobody outside of their houses making the streets look alive. Indeed, if it weren't for the rain, it would have appeared to be a ghost town.  
  
Further down the English land was a small house, it twisted and turned, looking as if it were to collapse at any moment. To any that knew its occupants, it was called the Burrow and the family inside was one of prominent stature.  
  
As the sky poured its heart and soul into sending waters to the lands, a small body was curled in the window of a townhouse in a small town, sipping cocoa long gone cold and staring at the rain, mesmerized.  
  
Despite the cold cocoa, the pouring rain, the long distances, the complete culture shock the last year had brought to her young, teenage life, something there seemed right, there was a small beacon of hope. It was the same beacon that He had always brought with Him when she thought of Him.  
  
It had been a few short weeks since Hermione Granger had left Hogwarts, her fifth year, and already she felt as if she had long since graduated and turned old. Maybe she was not physically old but mentally old.  
  
Of course, she had always been intellectually old, as some put it, but for her to feel like an ancient person inside of a teenage body was almost unheard of. She really felt as if she were, well, she hated to admit it, but she felt as old as she thought Dumbledore looked.  
  
Mahogany hair hung in her face slightly, not quite as bushy, but nowhere near the tame she had once wished it would be. As she watched the rain, she was caught between wanting it to stop and wanting to run out into it and just stand there, letting it soak into her skin.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes for a minute, trying to remember a time when she had been what someone would consider innocent. Probably the only time that she could even remember now worrying about death was before Hogwarts, before . . .  
  
Before Harry and Ron. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley.  
  
There had been a time when she thought that she may have fallen for Ron, but any thoughts of the kind had been shattered since her life took a nosedive. Ever since her father had gotten sick, everything else had taken a back seat in her life.  
  
Hermione sighed once more of her many times. It seemed that she couldn't live a day without sighing at least once. Her life centered on routines such as sighing.  
  
It was funny, her life that is. For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of something amazing, one thing about her that would immediately set her apart from millions of other people that walked the same earth as her, but once it came, she was no longer sure if she wanted it, because everything happened so fast.  
  
Why did magic have to come with sacrifice and death? Why couldn't her life be fully of sugar fairies and happiness dripping from every corner? There wasn't even anything in her life that she really felt she could trust.  
  
Sure, magic had it's rules, there were always books, but her life had expanded to so much more than books. It was so different now, and she didn't know whether she was able to handle it or not.  
  
Hermione's thoughts slowly turned back to Draco. Draco Malfoy, the last person on earth that she would have imagined herself having feelings toward, but here she was, not imagining it.  
  
When she had broke the news to her mother, she thought she had killed her for a minute, because all her mother did was stare, blankly, at the wall for at least five minutes before speaking, and Hermione was left to stand, awkwardly, waiting for her mother to speak and voice her opinion.  
  
It hadn't been the opinion she had wanted, either, but it had been the one she was expecting. Her mother had thought that either something had happened to her daughter this last year at Hogwarts magically, or there was something wrong with her emotionally. This small bit of news had triggered hours of conversation and argument over whether she was using this as a way to call out for attention and tell people that cared about her that there was something wrong in her life or if she truly loved him. Her mother thought the aforementioned, and Hermione believed in the latter.  
  
This shouldn't have been the conversation they were absorbed in, either. This was one of those times when striking a stronger and more fortified mother-daughter bond could be priceless. Her father was gone, evil was surely not completely ready to be put to rest at the moment and Hermione was slowly losing everything that she had once been so sure of.  
  
Her mind swimming with possibilities of simple tasks all the way up to the supreme task of "saving the bloody world" as Draco had put it once never let her have a spare moment of time to herself.  
  
There were so many things to consider, so many paths that could be taken, and she hadn't had any contact with Draco since they left Hogwarts a few weeks ago. She didn't really think it would be a good idea anyway. They had already planned that halfway through the summer they would meet, secretly of course, and talk about whatever was imminent at that time.  
  
With the new knowledge (from the Prophet) that Voldemort was more powerful that ever, a new evil entity seemed to be rising and crimes were up 67% in the wizarding community Hermione was sure there would be much to talk about.  
  
~*~  
  
Thankie thankie to all that reviewed the first chapter! I was surprised with how many people reviewed it!  
  
Alright, these first two chapters were shorter, they were just to sum up what each of them was feeling. From the next chapter on (unless I change my mind, which may happen) they will be "full length" chapters, more like the last story if not longer.  
  
Read and Review!  
  
Actually, "Review!" because by the time you're here, you've already read.  
  
--Saquoia-- 


	3. Summer Woes

            Summer Woes – Hermione's Place

            Hermione Granger sat at her desk staring at a calendar as if the longer she stared at it, the quicker it would become the middle of her summer and the sooner it would become time to go meet with Draco. She made no show of even trying to pretend that she didn't want it to come, there was no one to put on a show for in any case. All Hermione found herself thinking about was how much she missed Draco and Hogwarts and everything else she had gotten accustomed to.

Though it had only been a few weeks, she had already had the feeling that it had been a lifetime since she had last seen him, and she didn't know if she would be able to keep her sanity much longer either. The real truth of the matter was that he was the only thing that was keeping her grounded at the moment, because nothing else was how it once was.

            With everything else in her life thrown into such horrible disarray, Hermione had barely managed to keep up pretend charade that her life was normal, which, in a few short years, it became apparent that it wasn't. Magic, evil Dark Lords, the fate of the earth in teenagers' hands. . . sometimes it was all too much to handle, even for someone like Hermione who was thought to be capable of handling everything that was thrown at her. Sometimes it just was too much.

            When times like these seemed close to taking their imminent toll on Hermione, she would go do something carefree and fun, just to get her mind off of the destruction of the world. Her summer had consisted of two extremes – being careless, peppy and completely brainless, like when she went swimming in the river or on a complete candy surge or being depressed, moody and thinking way too hard, like she was at this precise moment.

            She had done a lot of thinking and it might as well not matter, because for all of the good it did she was no further ahead. Nothing made any more sense, and if she had done anything at all it was to confuse herself further than she had been before.

            One of Hermione's main subjects of focus was relationships. Mainly the ones that she had managed to pull herself away from over the last year. She hadn't realized it then, but now realized that many of the people she had left behind herself in the dust would prove to be important figures in their lives later on.

            The first relationship she wanted to make sure was fine was the one that was between her and her mother. This relationship was one that she wasn't sure about where it was headed. Despite their differences over a great many things that had happened in Hermione's life and the choices that she had made, her and her mother tried to stay as close as their differences and arguments allowed them to. They soon learned which subjects not to venture too deeply into and which subjects not to mention around each other altogether and coexisted in relative harmony.

            Or as close to harmony as you could possibly get in the situation that Hermione and her mother were in. No father or husband in the house, the looming threat of disaster striking the universe . . . Sometimes Hermione wished it hadn't been her and that she was still that simple, young girl that she had once been, but those thoughts were far from her mind nowadays.

            Hermione sighed and took one more longing glance at the red "x" across a date in the middle of the summer. Two weeks. All she had to do was make it through two more weeks and she would see him. She only had to make it two more weeks. 

Two. Weeks.

It soon became apparent to Hermione that she may very well not make it another two weeks without seeing someone that could help restore her mind, which was being driven into a never-ending panic. She wasn't sure why, but lately she had been having this feeling that something wasn't right, which may have been caused because weird things were beginning to happen.

            Not like she could 'pick up the table' weird, a different kind of weird that was strange, even to a person who had been going to Hogwarts for five years. No, this wasn't things out of the ordinary, it was things too ordinary. Everything was too calm, and it was beginning to appear not as docile as it once seemed, and this never happened.

            She hadn't ever known the Dailey Prophet not to deliver messages of terror, and it was completely unheard of for Lord Voldemort or one of the Malfoys to be completely silent, not a small squabble or war to be heard of, and if her mind wasn't set on making it through the summer, she may have looked into it.

            Hermione brushed the matter aside, however, and continued to suffer through her summer, the thought of meeting with Draco being her guiding force through everything that was thrown her way.

            Hermione woke up to the rather annoying sound of an alarm blaring near her head. Her mother was already gone, probably at work already, like she always was, and she was on her own for the day. Her mother had expected her to be sitting around the house all day, but that wasn't what today was all about, not for Hermione. Today she was meeting with Draco. After waiting and wishing and hoping for so long, it was finally time to see him. It was finally time to assure herself that she wasn't going insane and having completely vivid dreams.

Hermione dressed herself, what she didn't notice was that she was trying to look nicer than she usually did when she dressed herself. She was subconsciously dressing nicely, putting on a slight touch of makeup, the smallest change in her walk and blink. It was almost as is the thought of seeing Draco had changed her, but only slightly.

            She surveyed herself with a very critical eye, making sure that everything as perfect. Even if she was wearing simple jeans and a tee shirt with her hair pulled back, she had to make sure that she looked _very_ presentable. She hadn't seen Draco for a while, after all, and she didn't want his first thought to be that she had woken mere minutes before she came to see him.

            With one last glance at herself in the mirror, Hermione nodded her silent approval and prepared to leave for Diagon Alley.

            Hermione tapped the bricks behind the Leaky Cauldron with her wand and slowly made her way through the archway, no longer amazed by the magic that had taken place right in front of her very eyes. It had become as natural to her as the ringing of a telephone or the ding of a doorbell.

            Hermione began searching through the shops for the tea shop that would let her through the fire to make it to the place she and Draco had set up. It was strange, meeting in a muggle place, but Draco had insisted, and who was she to want to meet in a wizard place? Especially if it was Draco Malfoy, a Malfoy, who wanted to meet her, a Muggle born, in a muggle establishment? It was almost surreal, almost, but she could just barely believe it.

            Hermione pulled her long overcoat closer to her as a gust of wind blew against her, chilling her to her bones. Perhaps it would have been a smarter move if she had dressed for cold weather instead of looks, but it was too late to change that. A simple warming spell would do nicely, however.

            She reached for her wand and it wasn't in her pocket where she normally kept it. Undeterred, she reached into her other pocket, again emerging without a wand in her hand. Now confused, Hermione proceeded to search every place her wand could be and realized that she must have left it at home.

            She took a few more steps toward the shop she was looking for before she stopped and wheeled around, realizing her mistake. Had she not _just_ used her wand to get into Diagon Alley? She had had it when she was tapping the bricks, she hadn't gone too far from there, her wand had to be somewhere. It had to be, because if she didn't have it, that would mean. . .

            Someone would have stolen her wand, because she didn't have it. . . and she didn't see it on the floor. . . Hermione's eyes grew the size of baseballs as she realized her problem. She was stranded in wizard central without her wand, and someone else had her wand, with her name. They might as well have stolen her identity. Some wizard that had had their wand taken away now had hers, which had to be one that was compatible with the greatest array of wizards. It just had to be her wand, didn't it?

            Hermione sighed and began trudging around, desperately trying to find her wand but having the feeling that there was not a single hope she would find it. She was now torn between leaving and meeting with Draco as planned or staying and looking for her wand while he waited for her to show up. 

            _What a great way to start the day I've been looking forward to for the entire summer_, Hermione thought bitterly. _Could it get any worse?_

            Unfortunately for Hermione, and anyone else that has asked that question in a time of dire trouble, it _could_ and _would_ get worse, simply because she had to ask the question.

            While Hermione was trudging through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, shoving her way through the hoards of people trying to make their way into the newest book signing and the masses of children drooling over the most expensive new broomstick in the window of Quality Quiddich Supplies, she found no sign of her wand, not that her hopes were high.

            Her wand, meanwhile, was clutched in the sweaty palm of a strange figure, it wasn't tall enough to be human but not short enough to be dwarf. It shoved its way through the crowd, drawing itself further and further away from where Hermione was while she had no clue at all.

            Hermione wanted to scream as she continued her way through, finally deciding that she might have better luck if she went to talk to Draco and had him help her look instead of looking all on her own.

            Hermione walked into the shop and her eyes landed on Draco immediately. Her thoughts jerked directly to Draco and shoved any worry about her lost wand completely out of her head. She strode over to him and he looked up when he heard footsteps coming his way. 

            The smallest hint of a smile spread across his features and although it hadn't been the romantic welcome she had been hoping for, she knew it was a rather large stretch for him, and accepted it all the same. It was much more than she should have been expecting from him.

            Hermione took the seat that he motioned to and he leaned forward. Even if the muggles here didn't know who they were, there was always the chance that there were people here that weren't muggles, and if they recognized Draco or Hermione, there was no telling what horrible things would be happening next. Draco didn't need anything more on his plate, and, if she were to be honest with herself, she really didn't need any more either. She would be working on that single plate for quite some time.

            "Hey," she finally said, breaking the silence when she had gotten herself seated, and he nodded slightly in return.

            "I've been thinking a lot about you." He said.

            Whatever Hermione was expecting him to greet her with, that wasn't it. She didn't really know how to react, should she be happy and thank him or do the 'hard to get' thing and pretend that she didn't even notice? What would _he_ be expecting from her? She didn't know or care.

            "R-really?" Hermione stuttered out stupidly and the second it left her lips she longed to rewind what she had just said.

            "Well, yeah, not just you though. I've been thinking a lot about last year. I'm sure you have too." Draco said. Hermione brain seemed to take an infinitely long time to process this information, as if English was her seventh language or something, but she finally understood the message and nodded.

            "Yes." She said, still nodding her agreement. "A lot happened last year, didn't it?" she asked, realizing just how much _did_ happen last year that she had been thinking about. The last year had completely changed her life. Forever.

            Draco nodded his silent agreement and then they both lapsed into silence, not knowing what to say. Hermione felt that dreadful calm settle and she got an uneasy feeling again about nothing happening. She nimbly reached for her wand to reassure her now unsettled nerves and she instantly remembered her previous predicament, but she wasn't so sure how she was going to tell Draco what had happened. Should she tell him at all? Wouldn't he be angry or panic?

            Hermione was on the verge of not telling him when she realized that if anyone was going to be able to help her, it would have to be him. There really wasn't anyone else that knew her or would help her.

            "Draco?" she said quietly, not sure how he would react, so she braced herself for the worst possible reaction ever.

            "Hmm?" he said, his head jerking up so she was eye to eye with him. She felt even more uncomfortable now that he had listened to her. She would have been better if he had ignored her, because then she would have had an excuse to not tell him. She steadied her breathing and spoke again.

            "I. . ." She said, again stopping, not knowing how to tell him. She swallowed and then said, "I think I, _think _I, may have, just _may_ have, lost my wand." She said, her voice getting steadily quieter as she continued so that when she got to the 'lost my wand' part, it was barely above a whisper, in some horrible attempt to keep him from actually hearing what she said.

            He simply stared at her for the longest time before making any kind of motion to show that he head her, then, finally, "What?"

            Hermione squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to know what he was thinking at the moment because she was sure that it wasn't the nicest of compliments. She had to admit, though, that it did sound pretty stupid once she said it out loud.

            "Did you report it?" he asked.

            "No. . ." she said, beginning to realize just how irrationally and immaturely she had acted.

            "Did you tell anyone?"

            ". . . No, I didn't. . ."

            "Did you look for it?"

"Yes," Hermione said triumphantly, now happy that she had done at least one responsible thing. "Yes I did."

            "And?" He asked, obviously probing for more information.

            "And what?" Hermione asked, not knowing exactly what it was that he was expecting from her now. She had been stupid, she knew that, but there was nothing else she could do now. Besides, how _would_ she report a missing wand? They would laugh at her and tell her not to misplace things later.

            "Maybe, like, _where_ did you lose it? When?" Draco said, obviously annoyed at her naïve actions, but Hermione wasn't exactly thrilled at the moment either. Her wand was missing and she didn't need him on her case as well, she was mad enough at herself as it was.

            "I don't know, that's why it's called _losing_ it." Hermione said pointedly, thoroughly annoyed he was treating her this way. She had looked forward to seeing him all summer and now she wasn't quite sure what it was that she had been looking forward to.

            "I know," He said. "But haven't you been reading the Daily Prophet?" he said, his expression softening slightly, letting Hermione know that he wasn't about to kill her. Not yet, anyhow.

            "Of course I have," she said, affronted that he would even think that she was staying ignorant, especially after what had happened last year. She was looking for any mention of Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort or anything suspicious.

            "Then you know there have been wand robberies all over the world. Why would you _think_ of leaving your wand-"

            "There've been _what_?" Hermione asked, not even caring that she had just cut him off from his sentence. "No, no there haven't." she said firmly, still not caring about interrupting. "I've been reading the _Prophet_ and there haven't been any stories at all that look like something is happening. It's all been happy news." Draco gave her a shrewd look as though he thought she were an ignorant one.

            "Have you been reading the happy section?" he asked sarcastically, the old Draco that she had known for years seeming to seep back into the conversation. She stood up and nearly glared down at him.

            "Are you saying I've been ignoring the news?" She asked haughtily.

            "If you haven't _seen_ any of the other stories, there really isn't much of another explanation for it. So yes, I am." Draco said, also standing up and glaring right back. By now there were many people staring, which was twice as bad because they were in a muggle establishment, which meant that talking about wands, or Voldemort or anything related to the magical world would be a big no-no with the Ministry.

            Unfortunately, neither of our two lovebirds were thinking of such things at the moment. So far, the only foreign term that anyone could have heard would have been Prophet, but if this went any further, it could be rather ugly.

            Hermione gave him a challenging glare and stared him down for a minute before nearly yelling back in return.

            "I _know_ that there hasn't been anything in the _Prophet_ about wand robberies, or any other kind of robberies, or goblin rebellions from Gringotts, or dragon troubles in Romania or anything _else_ you might accuse me of being ignorant of. I've read the paper every single say and there's never been anything in it!"

            "What kind of witch are-" Draco would have continued on, but there was a collective gasp from the small audience that had been watching them argue, and it was now that Draco and Hermione chose to remember that they were in a muggle establishment, which meant that everything that had been mentioned had been heard by the customers and owners.

            Both of them locked gazes and realized, at the same time, that they were in serious trouble. It was increasingly obvious that everyone had just thought Draco had called her some horrible profanity and other than that, they thought the entire conversation as completely crazy.

            "_And_," Hermione said, stretching for time, trying to think of an excuse. "That is just one of the many, colourful and interesting lines from an upcoming play, 'What in the World is Going On?' that will be at the local thearte. I hope you all attend." Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and forced him down into his chair, trying to look nonchalant and make everyone think she was crazy.

            He leaned across the table and whispered, "Are you crazy?"

            "Perhaps, but I know that there's nothing in the paper." Hermione said pointedly, trying not to pay attention to the people now watching them closely in the room, almost as if they were waiting for another interesting outburst.

"Forget the bloody paper," Draco hissed, trying to keep his voice very low so that none of the nosy people watching would get a chance to overhear what was being said. "We have an entire coffee house full of muggles that think we're heading to Loony Town." 

            "Well, just pay them no mind." Hermione said.

            "And how do we do _that_, Miss Loony Toon?" Draco asked derisively as he rolled his eyes and tried not to draw attention to the two of them, sitting at their table, now whispering.

            "Don't make eye contact." Hermione replied sharply, knowing full well that she had made a complete fool of herself but not willing to let him realize that she realized the same.

            Draco seemed to be suppressing a growl but obliged and didn't make eye contact or make any move to look at anyone. Finally, when it seemed that people have given up on watching them to find some entertainment, they went back to their hushed conversation.

            "You can't tell me you haven't seen anything. You read everything." Draco said.

            "I know, I read the paper, cover to cover, and there was _nothing_, and I mean _nothing_, in the entire paper, any day, about robberies or activity of any sort that looked suspicious." Hermione said, waiting for him to grin and say that he had tricked her.

            "I've already found something suspicious and I haven't had to read the paper." Draco sighed and waited for her reaction.

            She stared, "Well?" Draco pulled out a rolled up copy of the paper, trying almost desperately not to draw attention to them, because that would mean that someone would notice that the pictures moved. Meeting in a muggle place was beginning to seem more and more stupid by the second.

            Hermione rolled her eyes and glanced down at the paper, the headline catching her eye:

            **Mass Wand Robberies Reported, 2 Ministry Officials Captive**

---

Muahaha, I am so evil, leaving you there. I'd like to take this time to apologize for taking so long to update, between writing my assigned story for school, homework, TaeKwonDo, life and everything else, I haven't had much time. I've rewritten this chapter a few times too, hope you enjoy!!!

--Saquoia--


	4. Strange

_Hermione rolled her eyes and glanced down at the paper, the headline catching her eye:_

Mass Wand Robberies Reported, 2 Ministry Officials Captive 

--

Strange – Muggle Coffee Shoppe

             Hermione stared at the paper, willing it to show the real message. It just couldn't be. This wasn't right - it didn't make any sense. She glanced up at the headline, then at the title, as if checking to see whether it was the same paper she had been getting all summer, and, sure enough, it was. The _Daily Prophet_ was printed in bold lettering across the top. Hermione continued staring and the silence seemed to bear down until, at last, Draco broke the quiet.

            "Why do you look so surprised?" Draco asked, searching her face for an answer, but he wasn't going to find it there. Even she didn't have an answer for this one, and she had always thought she would have an answer. Her eyes flickered up to meet his for a brief second before returning to their position on the dubious headline.

            This couldn't be real, it couldn't be right. Had he visited some prank shop before coming here? She glanced at the heading again, willing it to be a different paper, a different year, a different life entirely, but no matter how many times she wished it to change, it wouldn't. The same headline remained and her heart had fallen into her stomach.

            Hermione stood, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him out of the shoppe. She needed to be somewhere where she was going to be able to talk to him, without worrying about who would overhear them or what was going to happen. She needed to be somewhere alone with him.

            She led him to a more secluded section of the area, one inhabited by wizard folk, and she sunk into a nearby chair, her entire reserve of strength evaporating in mere seconds.

            "So," Draco said, filling in the uncomfortable silence.

            "This. . . this is real?" she asked, gesturing to the paper clasped in her hand. She wished with all of her heart that he would burst out laughing right now about how he had pulled the wool over her eyes for the first time ever.

            "One hundred percent." Was his definite answer. That was it, Hermione realized, and her insides vanished. This was the beginning of a situation she knew she wouldn't ever hope to be able to scope the enormity of.

            "So, these. . . these wand robberies, they've been happening a lot lately?" She asked, her thirst for knowledge beginning to take over her emotions and actions. Information first, panic later.

            "Yes, three wand shops in Germany have been cleaned out completely of their stock. There are enough wands that have been stolen to give them to nearly every muggle in existence, they could supply enough wands for something huge," Draco said, looking at her obviously wanting her speculations.

            "Something huge like an army," was her answer, and a dawning of understanding appeared in his gray eyes.

            "You think the people behind this are trying to get together an unstoppable army." Draco said, as if reading her thoughts. "You think they're planning on taking over."

            "They plan on conquering." Hermione corrected. "There's no other use for that many wands. . . What else has been happening in the news?" She asked, searching for more clues that might fit together.

            "The only other piece that is out in the puzzle right now is that people have been taken captive. Ministry officials, the prime minister in Romania was taken, people of high importance from a wide variety of places." At Draco's words, Hermione's mind leapt into overwork mode instantly. There _had_ to be a connection between these two events, past experiences had already told her that.

            "What would they want with ministry officials?" Hermione asked after a brief pause in the conversation. Draco eyed her for a moment before speaking.

            "Who's '_they_', Hermione?" he asked. She looked around to make sure no one was really paying attention to the two of them. Nobody was.

            "_Voldemort_," she whispered pointedly as she leaned forward. She still hated to say the name, but she had started using it more. Dumbledore _had_ to be right, fear of the name only increased fear in the thing itself.

            "Why are you so set on him?" Draco asked. "Not everything in the world is going to boil down to _Potter_ and his magical powers." He said slightly coldly. Apparently he still wasn't too fond of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and if she were honest with herself, neither was Hermione, not at the moment.

            "I'm not, it's just . . ." Hermione trailed off, not sure how to describe her feeling. She just had this weird notion that it had to do with the Dark Lord.

            "Just what?" He pressed, obviously set on getting his answer, no matter how demanding he needed to be in order to achieve this.

            "I don't know. . ." she said honestly, because she didn't. Her mind frantically searched for words to describe what she thoughts, but she couldn't. 

            Hermione sighed, "I hate this."

            "Too bad, we're stuck in it." Was the only bit of consolation Draco offered her, which wasn't much on the scale of consolation.

            "I know."

---

            Hermione's wand and the mysterious figure carrying it continued moving further away from her position. The grimy hand with abnormally short fingers was sweating. This task was much too difficult, his master much to crazy, but a promise was a promise, one that could never be broken.

---

First, I want to apologize for the horrifically short nature of this chapter, then I want to apologize **for being gone so long**. If you're into excuses, we have some mighty huge projects going on at school, but if you're not into excuses, I have become a lazy pig.

Please read and review, if you remember this story at all!

--Saquoia--


	5. Parting and much Author's notes

Hello, hello, HELLO!!!!!!

I am so incredibly happy and there are not words to express it. I haven't be able to post on ANY of my stories because, sadly, my internet service provider wouldn't allow it. Evil, huh?

Well, you know that "This page cannot be displayed" message? I got that every time it tried to go to , but magically, today, when I tried to go (because I did so about every two days) it WORKED!

So, after bouncing around in my chair for 20 minutes, I realized I needed to get cracking and post some new story. This time, I haven't posted anything super long, sorry about that, and I will get working on it. I think I am going to have to try to post once a week or so, because my life is getting extremely busy.

Please don't forget my stories and please read them!

--Saquoia--

A quick thank you to everyone who read Chapter 4:

PartlyFoxyPartlyGrandma, rain4life, ice queen, sara, love-princess1, Befuzzled, sugar n spice, Artemis MoonClaw, SlytherinHunny13, imaginary, TomFeltonsBabe, SunFlower18, u8mytwix, darkstar, shortstuff10, Celestial Eclipse, Nicole and Darkmoon of Shadows.

Chapter 5 – Along the Road to Nowhere 

Hermione kicked a rock in frustration as she and Draco walked down a road. She still couldn't describe her feeling, but she knew it had to be right. There was something going on and it had to involve the Dark Lord.

It was on days like this that Hermione found herself wishing that she weren't 'special', that she had no magic and that she really was a muggle. She just wanted, desperately, to be a normal person that only had to worry about an after school job and how much ice cream she could eat without damaging her figure, not whether one wrong move would send the world into a major disaster or if there was some major government conspiracy going on around her.

Her "partner in crime", Draco Malfoy, was much better suited for this kind of problem. He hadn't ever had any friends, at least none that she had seen, and until she had come along, she hadn't seen him really with anyone in the world. He was the perfect stereotypical "lone hero" type. But, it wasn't as if she couldn't understand why, obviously his home life wasn't that lovely.

Sometimes she wondered whether her entire life was a big scam. Sure, she trusted Albus Dumbledore and his decisions, but lately, her entire world had completely run awry.

Everywhere she turned, everywhere she looked, there was death, evil, crime, the Dark Lord, something was always wrong. There was no place that she could run and hide, there was just no escape anymore. And, to make things harder on her, she didn't have her support force anymore, her long time friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, were gone from her life. They were taking great lengths to detach themselves from her and it made her sad.

But it couldn't make her sad enough to cry. Hermione didn't think she could cry anymore, she had done it so much in the past, it seemed almost impossible now. Whether this was a good skill or not, she didn't know. She couldn't say she was capable at feeling much emotion anymore.

Hermione couldn't squash the nagging feeling that something big was happening, but she had no idea what it was and couldn't, therefore, do anything about it.

--

The small figure handed Hermione's wand to the Dark Lord, shivering slightly in the towering shadow the Lord cast. The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, stretched out his hand to grasp the wand and the moment his fingers touched the wood of her wand, he recoiled and glared at his servant.

"You bring me the wand of a mudblood, Fool." His words seemed to resemble hissing rather than speaking, but they had the desired effect.

"Master, I-" Lord Voldemort held up a hand, silencing the figure.

"I ask for the wand of a pureblood, the one whose presence in this world could help destroy me, and you dare bring me the wand of the lowest creature on this earth?" His words hung in the air, as if goading his servant to answer the question, but to do so would have been suicide.

"Bring me the wand I want."

--

Hermione and Draco parted, each promising to write and try to figure out just what was going on in their world now. Although she didn't want to part with Draco, she knew enough to say as much.

She watched him walk away before returning to the muggle part of the world and sadly walking to her house. When she walked inside, her mom wasn't there and she continued to her room.

When she walked in she noticed that there was an owl on her bed. It was a snowy white owl and she recognized it immediately.

"Hedwig," she said and rushed forward to take the letter from her leg. While she did, she wondered what on earth Harry would have to say to her. Hermione took the letter and began to open it when Hedwig clicked her beak.

"You must be hungry," Hermione figured and went to get something suitable for an owl. She returned, handed Hedwig some leftover food from last night, and set about opening the letter.

It wasn't from Harry, as she had originally thought it was, but from Ginny. Hermione wondered, briefly, why Ginny had used Hedwig, but soon forgot her questions and read the letter.

_Hermione – _

_ I know you've been reading the _Daily Prophet_ lately, so I don't need to explain what is going on, and I can cut right to it. My father's wand was stolen today. We don't know who took it and he has no idea how it could have disappeared. It was in his pocket the entire time, and then, according to him, it disappeared._

_ About the same time this happened, Harry complained that his scar was hurting. When dad got home and told us his wand had vanished, Harry collapsed in the middle of the living room and was sprawled out on the floor, muttering something about 'amus umra' or something like that._

Hermione, I'm worried, Harry decided that he needs to end this, ever since he went to Dumbledore's office last year, he seems to think that anything to do with

At this point in the letter, Hermione noticed that Ginny had paused for a long time. The ink on her quill had dripped down onto the paper two times and she had scratched out three words she had written.

_Voldemort is his responsibility and Ron's decided that whatever's Harry's business is his. Hermione, Ron thinks he's some kind of super sidekick or something, and I just know he's going to get himself in trouble._

_ I know you guys aren't talking to each other (my brother and Harry are so thick sometimes) but you need to help me. Hermione, I know you still care about them, so I know you'll want to help me too._

_ Best regards,_

Ginny 

Hermione wasn't sure what to think. She knew Harry would charge out at the first opportunity, because whether he realized it or not, he _did_ have a "saving people thing" and couldn't resist trying to save the world for one minute.

Ron was the bigger problem in her mind. Who was he kidding, the only reason he had managed to stay alive for so long was that he was with Harry and Hermione, or knocked out by something before he could be killed. He wouldn't survive if he tried to be a sidekick.

Hermione shook her head and stared at Ginny's letter for a long time. She had no reply to give Ginny, at least not now. She let Hedwig fly out into the night, knowing how much Harry would worry if she didn't return, and she lay on her bed until she heard the sounds of her mother coming home.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do anymore.

--

"This is the third wand you've brought, and the third time you've been wrong." Lord Voldemort hissed, his voice barely slicing the long silence that had led up to the moment.

"Master, I have done as-"

"Bring my what I want."

"Yes, Master."

--

Hermione woke to the noise of a beak clicking against the glass of her window. Thinking it was Hedwig again, she scrambled to the window, but it was a brown, Hogwarts barn owl with what appeared to be her supply list.

Sure enough, when she tore open the envelope, closed with the detailed Hogwarts seal, there was a list of supplies, somewhat longer than she was used to, and a small card fell out of the many Hogwarts papers. She looked at it, on the front was a moving picture of a phoenix in all its beauty with flaming feathers, the image nearly entranced Hermione until she turned it over.

On the back was small print, the biggest part saying,

This card certifies that Hermione A. Granger is registered with the Ministry of Magic as an Animagus with the form of a phoenix. Markings at recorded and verified by the Department of Misuse of Magic and are hereafter noted.

Hermione didn't bother to read the markings, but did look at the card a while longer. Something couldn't be right about this, didn't it take years to be a registered Animagus? The only reason she decided to believe it was because it had come in her Hogwarts things.

Now Hermione studied her list of school things. Most of it was normal, potion ingredients, books, equipment, but something at the bottom of the list caught her eye.

_One wand with a core of two or more types, for back up purposes._

Hermione read it three times to make sure she had read correctly. What did it mean, two or more types? As in, a unicorn hair and a phoenix feather?

Things just kept getting stranger.

---

I would like to point out that when I started the first story, Reading Your Soul, I said it was set in Fifth year. After reading OotP when it first came out, I realized there were things in the story that would be valuable to mine.

I am integrating parts from both stories into mine, so by the time I write the final piece (set is 7th year) it should make sense.

---

Thank you, for reading, for even coming back to look. You are awesome, and I haven't had reviews in a long time, so I would love one!

--Saquoia--


	6. Another Year

Chapter Six – Another Year 

Hermione walked along the antiquated cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, watching people rush past her in their haste to get their shopping done before noon, wishing Draco were with her. It never ceased to amaze her how much that she could actually miss him.

She passed by a new string of shops, one selling what looked like large, glass pearls with billowing clouds floating within them. Hermione stopped in front of the window for a minute, staring at the displays, trying to figure out what on earth they were for. She stood a moment longer, mesmerized by the way the cloud-like substance drifted within the glass orbs until she realized she had more shopping to finish.

Glancing down at her list, Hermione realized that she still needed about half of the things on it.

She took a turn into Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to buy new Hogwarts robes, as hers were getting a little small, as well as a new set of dress robes. As she walked in, she saw that Harry, Ron and Ginny had had the same idea. She smiled toward them, but it faded from her face as Harry and Ron pretended to examine some paisley cloth on the opposite end of the store. Ginny threw them a look that Hermione couldn't see and walked over to her.

"Hello," she said, and it was obvious that she wasn't sure what to say to Hermione. Hermione could tell by how she shifted her feet and played with her fingers, something else that she had in common with her older brother, Ron.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione said, giving her a now half-hearted smile. "I take it they still want nothing to do with me, then?" she asked unnecessarily. The two boys looked as though they didn't even recognize Hermione, which hurt.

Ginny didn't answer her right away, and when she did, Hermione wasn't sure Ginny disagreed with them. "Well," she said, drawing out the syllable to allow herself time to think of a proper response, "they _are_ boys."

"Yes," Hermione replied quietly, wishing she could knock some sense into them. "I suppose they are." After that, the conversation didn't go much of anywhere and Ginny rejoined her brother and Harry, leaving Hermione alone once more.

As they were leaving, Mrs. Weasley accidentally caught her eye, and Hermione smiled, hoping beyond hope Ron and Harry hadn't spoken with her and given her a false impression of how things were at Hogwarts. One look at the way Mrs. Weasley regarded her told Hermione otherwise.

Letting what was left of her hope deflate from her heart, Hermione set out to make her purchases and leave as soon as possible. She didn't want to spend one moment more in a place where no one seemed to like her.

Hermione went to bed that night feeling more depressed than she could ever remember feeling, with the exception of the day her father died. She stared at the ceiling, trying to erase the way Mrs. Weasley had looked at her or how Ron and Harry ignored her completely, but found that she couldn't.

Although all of her Hogwarts purchases lay packed away in a trunk in the corner of her room, and even though she was ready, theoretically, to leave, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to return to Hogwarts this year or not. It was hard to figure whether living in the depressing environment of her home was worse than going to Hogwarts hell, or not.

She lay awake until well into the early hours of morning, contemplating whether it was worth it, and when she woke the next morning, she didn't remember having ever fell asleep.

Miles beneath the general hubhub of the wizarding community above, a strange group of creatures had gathered, each looking up at a speaker, staring in rapt attention.

The smallest of the cloaked figures stood on a raised podium, high over the sea of other creatures that shared his physical build, his voice issuing throughout the dark cavern that was lit by flickering fireflies.

His language was strange, full of clicks, air pulses and glottal stops, but one word stood out among the rest. One word that was foreign to their tongue, and immediately discernable from the rest. The one word that inspired shivers in the foreign creatures, three syllables that cost tremendous effort for the speaker to say, but reached the desired effect.

His single word that inspired fear in a race.

Voldemort.

Hermione gloomily wheeled her cart toward the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Seeing as this was habit, she allowed her mind to wander freely as she made herself the least conspicuous as possible to muggles passing by.

Smoke, restaurant fumes and general smog polluted the air, and it was so thick that Hermione could have sword she felt it push her. There were many people dashing all about, trying to catch their trains at appropriate times. Hermione watched them for a moment, wishing that she could be a muggle, without having the added worry of magic and what was going on in two worlds resting on her mind.

She turned and made her way on to platform 9 ¾. She was proud of herself as the time stood.

So far, she had managed to avoid contact, whether by speaking or looking, with anyone that she knew, or with anyone that knew about her and Draco. She wanted to keep it that way. If her experience with Harry and Ron were telltale, she didn't want to meet anyone else, especially a Slytherin. She wasn't sure if she was in the proper mood to withstand hexes at the time.

Leaving her luggage with the rest of the school's, she boarded the Hogwarts express and found an empty car. She sat, put her things on the ground next to her, and waited.

Five minutes. . .

Ten minutes. . .

It was the first time in her five years of riding the Hogwarts Express that Hermione had ever seen a car empty, as there was usually just enough room for groups of four, five and six to stuff themselves and their things into each car. There was never an empty car. And hers was. It seemed that everyone else had managed to find somewhere else to cram themselves, rather than put themselves anywhere near her.

By the time she would normally have started catching up on some reading that she certainly hadn't gotten done during the summer holidays, Hermione was too depressed to read her book, which stayed packed away in her bag in the overhead compartment, and so she contented herself with watching the landscape flash past by her window until nightfall.

The train passed through fields, obvious muggle dwellings every few acres. She watched one small figure moving across the fields, but was unable to get a good look at it as the Hogwarts Express continued to speed through the countryside.

Further on they seemed to reach a stretch of land that no muggles lived in. There wasn't an unnatural structure in sight. Some of the biggest trees she had ever seen loomed out in the distance and she could have sworn that she had seen caves off in the distance, but the train was moving so fast, she couldn't get a look at things that weren't dozens of miles off into the land.

Sighing, Hermione turned her attention to the sky. Small clouds littered the otherwise crystalline blue color of the sky. The sun shone down on the now swaying grasses of a meadow and birds played through the tickling wind, floating on it as if they were weightless.

Hermione glanced at the time and decided it was time to patrol the corridors for troublemakers, not that she expected anyone to listen to her, at the rate things were going.

As she made her way down the hall, Hermione saw brief glimpses of the other students of Hogwarts, smiling, laughing and trading chocolate frog cards as the train sped along. Some students were showing others new charms they had looked up, others were shouting out jokes and laughing, but not one of them were behaving in a manner that would cause her to intervene.

Hermione looked in the last compartment, and her breath caught in her throat. Harry, Ron and Ginny were sitting in a compartment huddled together over something, and Luna Lovegood was reading her magazine, the Quibbler, in the corner, seeming not to even notice the other three.

Ginny was saying something, Ron laughed, Harry punched him in the shoulder, obviously amused and only pretending to punish him for something that Hermione couldn't hear. They looked like they were quite enjoying themselves, if their grins were to say anything in the least. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen a grin that big on Harry's face, nor did she ever remember having seen Ron laugh so hard that tears ran down his cheeks.

With a jolt, Hermione realized that Ginny was where _she_ would have normally been. Ginny was laughing with her old friends. And they didn't look as if they noticed her absence. Had she been so easily replaced?

Ron turned to look out the window, and Hermione could have sworn that he caught her eye, but he turned away so fast, she couldn't be sure of anything. Perhaps she had been imagining it, and he hadn't even noticed her. The windows were hard to see through anyway. Ron said something to Harry, and Hermione made sure to be gone before Harry would have a chance to look her way.

On her way back to her compartment to finish the remainder of the journey to Hogwarts castle, which was seeming more and more like a dungeon with each click clack of the train on its rails, in silence, Hermione glanced into Draco's compartment, more out of instinct than anything else.

He was sitting surrounded by his usual crowd of idiots, Crabbe, Goyle and some other large, troll-like brutes. Draco's back was to her, and she didn't really care if anyone else saw her, she was too consumed in watching what was going on behind the window.

Pansy was very obviously flirting with Draco, and he wasn't really doing anything to stop her. She was batting her eyelashes in a sickening way, and Hermione noticed that she had done something to her hair to make it almost unnaturally straight in a way that framed her face.

Her hand went instinctively to her own very bushy clouds of hair. Although it had calmed down slightly as she aged, (when she had been in primary school it looked like someone had stuck an old feather duster with twigs in her hair and then electrocuted her) but was still what she could call a mess – she could venture to call it a disaster even. With large amounts of hair product, she could manage to get it under control, but it would never, ever be like Pansy's was now.

Pansy said something, her eyelashes still fluttering as if she had something in her eye, and Draco pet her head. Hermione tried not to fling the door open and yell, not because she was trying to be nice, but because she didn't know whom she would actually be yelling at – Draco or Pansy.

Hermione made her way into her compartment and sat down, resuming her usual activity of staring out the window, but now she wasn't so sure what was real in her life. What was going to happen to her and Draco? Was it ever going to be possible to fix her relationship with Ron and Harry? And what was going to happen at Hogwarts this year?

She closed her eyes and thought about Harry losing Sirius. Even if she was _suppose_ to hate him, as he most certainly did her, she couldn't stop how she felt toward him. She knew how close he had been to his godfather, and losing him had to be a big blow to him. If they were friends still, maybe she could have helped him, she had certainly known what it was like to lose someone now. . .

But no, she reasoned with herself silently. No, Harry wouldn't come to her for advice or guidance or just to talk to. That was what Ron was for. His best buddy. His truest friend. She wasn't even in the same realm of comparison as Ron was. She had known – she had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she had truly known - in their fourth year, when he and Ron hadn't been speaking, that she was only a temporary fill in for what he really wanted, which was his friend.

As she leaned back, eyes still closed, Hermione tried to remember a time at Hogwarts when she hadn't had Ron and Harry, but found that she couldn't. The only time she hadn't been part of their group of three had been when they were in first year, and even then, they were friends by Halloween.

She groaned and let out her breath in a long puff.

This was going to be a long year.

Hermione hadn't noticed she had drifted off to sleep until she was jerked awake by the sound of her compartment door being shoved open.

When her eyes recovered from their blurry slumber, she found them set upon Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as well as a number of other people she didn't recognize.

"Morning, Granger," Draco said, and Hermione nearly did a double take. _Granger_? He was calling her Granger again? "How was your _nap_?" he said, with a slight sneer.

Hermione didn't answer, she just sat, staring in his direction.

Why is he treating me like this? Hermione wondered. She barely had time to try to piece things together when Pansy sauntered in, and Hermione _did_ take a double take this time.

Pansy was different. _Way_ different than she had remembered her. The pug-nosed, annoying Slytherin girl had done some growing up over the summer, she had grown into a more mature looking person, and Hermione realized that Draco would have to be blind not to notice.

"Your muddy-blooded, tooth-loving mother doing well this summer?" he asked in a voice Hermione hadn't heard in two years. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Shut up," she said.

"Aww, have I heard Granger's feelings now?" Draco asked, fake pouting. Hermione's temper was starting to rise. What the _heck_ was Draco doing?

"Stuff it, _Malfoy_," she said, the voice that came from her mouth not one that she recognized. It was cold and angry, and Hermione found that she didn't really care at the moment.

"Tell her _off_, Drakie!" Pansy simpered from the back of the large trolls that accompanied Draco. Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted to vomit or scream more at the moment.

"Drakie?" she said scathingly, giving Draco a look that she didn't recognize on her face. "Changed your name, have you?"

Pansy made her way to the front of the pack and stood next to Draco, as if her presence were going to scare Hermione into hiding.

Draco opened his mouth, obviously to say something else to her, but Hermione found that she didn't want to hear it. In fact, she didn't remember telling her legs to move or her hand to grab Draco's wrist in a death grip, but the next thing she knew, she had drug him out of the compartment, slammed the door and stood, in the hallway, glaring at him.

"What on earth are you _doing_?" Hermione asked incredulously, staring at him, waiting for his answer.

"Hanging out with my _friends_-" he said, but Hermione cut him off.

"_Those_ are your. . . your. . . _friends?_" she asked.

"My friends, of which have taken me back, which is obviously more than I can say for you, now isn't it?" he asked with a strange emotion on his face as he finished speaking. Hermione didn't have an answer at the moment, so settled for staring at him in disbelief.

"What are you _doing_?" Hermione couldn't understand what had happened. Less than six weeks ago they had been walking down Diagon Alley, sitting in a coffee shop, talking, they had most certainly _not_ been acting how he was now.

"I could ask you the same," he said. Hermione stared, still stunned.

"Is this some pathetic way to say we're breaking up?" Hermione asked, her face unnaturally set in a displeased expression.

"It means, Granger, get out of my bloody way." Draco pushed past her and went into the compartment. Hermione followed, shoving troll-like cronies, but to no avail. She was no match for their three ton weight.

"What are you doing, _Malfoy_?" she called through the mass of thick arms and legs that blocked her view, but she got no answer. As the cronies silently filed out, Hermione stared in shock.

Pansy turned to smirk at her.

"Different times, different lines, Granger."

"What are you talking about, Parkinson?"

"You can't tell me you thought he'd be gone forever." Pansy said, sneering in Hermione's direction, obviously enjoying the fact that Hermione didn't know what she was taking about.

"What?" Hermione said, waiting for some horrible insult to drip out of Pansy's lips.

"His father." Pansy said simply, and made to leave.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, and Pansy turned back, her obvious enjoyment enraging Hermione further.

"Come _on_, Granger, you had to know that whatever you thought you had with Draco would wear off. After all, he does have a powerful father. Think of what it could do to his future to be seen with you."

"But Mal-"

"Whatever Drakie may have told you, it's changed. Especially after his father's employer returned. Oh yes, _that_ changed everything."

"Who, Voldemort?" Hermione asked quietly. Pansy laughed at her.

"Finally gotten over saying the name, have you?" she asked. "Oh, _well done_. But no, you're wrong. Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Then who?"

"I'm not that stupid, Granger," Pansy said, and made her way out. "I can't tell you. But, let's just say that if him and the Dark Lord were to meet, they would either ally, or the most bloody war of this world would follow." With those final parting words, Pansy left, leaving a very confused Hermione in her compartment.

Worse than the Dark Lord? Worse than Voldemort? And what was this "employer" Pansy was babbling on about Draco's father having. And why, why, _why_ was Draco acting like a giant prat all of a sudden?

Hermione sank down on her seat and spent the remainder of the ride to Hogwarts in silence.

The ending of a chapter, one which I hope was up to the very firm length standards?

Thank you for sticking with me, I can't believe I actually took two weeks to update, instead of the one that I promised, time just flew by. Oh well, I can't change it now. Please enjoy.

R/R.

--Saquoia--


	7. Paululum

Before you read the next chapter:

I don't have enough webspace on to apologize for how long it has been since I last wrote. Just assume I am really, really, really, really, _really_ sorry!!! It was like time just had a mind of its own and completely ran away from me. I could give you all of my excuses (and believe me, there are plenty) but I'll just say, "I am so sorry."

Now, thank you for all the reviews you have given during my absence, it was very enjoyable to sign into my email account and see "237 New Messages". Well, it was enjoyable once I regained consciousness.

I continue to be blown away by the thoughtful and kind reviews I get, I am glad that people enjoy reading what I call "Saquoia's Crappy Scrappies".

Anyway, enough blabber from me, please enjoy this new (FINALLY) chapter.

---

**Chapter Six – Paululum**

Ostracized.

Hermione had never _once_ considered describing herself with the word, but here she was, sitting in the Great Hall at the Welcoming Feast without a single friend or even an acquaintance to talk to. The seat directly to her right was empty, it hadn't even been touched, and to her left was the end of the table. Across from her sat a third year with a bad cold whose only bit of conversation was to ask her if he could "borrow her napkin". She assured him that he could keep it.

"There will now be the sorting of the first years into houses." Came Professor McGonagall's voice, cutting through Hermione's thoughts and snapping her attention to what was happening at the head of the hall. The Sorting Hat and a three-legged stool were brought out, the very same articles that had been used to sort her into Gryffindor six years ago.

Six years…

The Sorting Hat opened its brim of a mouth and sang in its carrying baritone voice, but Hermione missed most of the song, strings of it floating to her ears and leaving as quickly as they had come. She was only shocked out of her reverie by the thunderous applause the ending of Sorting Hat's song caused.

"Casanct, Timothy," McGonagall called, and a small boy stumbled forward, shaking violently. He tripped over his feet on the way to the stool and nearly broke his nose before righting himself and shakily seating himself on the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF." The hat roared, and the Hufflepuff table burst out in tumultuous applause for their newest house member.

Not once did Hermione try to engage anyone she had formerly thought of as friends in conversation. If she were to be honest with herself, there was frankly no point in trying. They had made it obvious on the train that no one in Gryffindor wanted anything to do with her. She might even venture to say in the entire school, as she thought back to how Draco had acted not too long ago.

"Geneco, Drew," McGonagall called. Hermione was not paying the sorting any attention. In fact, she was only drawn back to the Sorting when the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" and the table at which she was seated rose in elation, screaming and roaring and thumping their newest member on the back.

The new first year had to sit next to Hermione, and she looked at him, but caught sight of Draco behind him, and forgot all about the new first year.

Thoughts shifting to him, to Draco Malfoy, the cause of her annoyance and perhaps more, Hermione tried to imagine what it was that had changed him, made him decide that it was no longer worth his time to be around her. She thought, desperately, of anything she might have said, done, but nothing came to her. Was it truly just 'one of those things' that people always says happened. Did they just grow apart?

"Mortorior, Kevin," continued McGonagall, but Hermione was no longer paying the new first years any attention.

_Maybe,_ said a voice in her head, _maybe he has realized he doesn't like you. That you _are_ the mudblood he once thought you were. Or maybe he just likes Pansy better – you saw her, she is different now._

"Rexinson, Tracy," a short girl with blonde hair rose and the hat roared, "RAVENCLAW!"

Hermione had nothing to say to the voice in her head, and about that time, the last first year came to the stool.

"Sembeo, Michael," the boy walked forward, and took to the stool, not seeming nervous as the majority of the other first years had. But, then again, neither had Malfoy.

_Don't think about him_, she implored herself, and focused her attention on the first year at the front of the room.

The hat took a long time to decide, like it had done with Harry.

_Don't think about_ him _either._

Eventually, the hat called, "RAVENCLAW."

The blue-clad table burst into applause. Dumbledore rose and the hall fell silent, all eyes directed to his tall stature, twinkling eyes and long, silvery beard. There was something about Dumbledore that commanded your attention, and Hermione had yet to figure out what it was.

"Welcome," he said, "to another wonderful year at Hogwarts."

_Wonderful._ Hermione thought. _Yeah, right._

"While I do have many announcements for this term, it is not the proper time for such things. I ask everyone to please, stuff your faces until your stomachs threaten to burst." As he spoke, he gestured his arm in grand grace and the tables before him gleaned with food.

The first years gasped in amazement and Hermione smiled slightly to herself. She could barely remember a time when simple things like that had amazed her, even baffled her. It had all been so… _magical_. But not anymore. The table could turn into an elephant and she wouldn't so much as bat an eye. She had lost the wonder of it all.

The Hall around her immediately went into a feeding frenzy – students fought each other for the biggest lamb chops and the largest portions of kidney and steak pudding. Pumpkin juice containers were knocked over in the haste to gulp down every drop of the precious orange liquid that was possible. Hermione watched, for the first time, not feeling compelled to join in – just to watch.

Hermione ate little at that dinner; she mostly watched her plate and the people around her.

As the plates cleared themselves of the last of the desserts, to the loud and obvious protests of some, Dumbledore rose once more, and the chatter fell to a quiet whisper, and then to silence.

"Now that we have all had a bite or two in which to eat," Dumbledore says, "I must say that it is time I make my announcements. Some are enjoyable, and others are of the gravest importance. I urge you to listen to what I have to say."

If possible, the silence in the Hall grew quieter. Every eye, even those of the unruly Slytherins, was upon their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. It was not often he opened his welcoming speech with the word 'gravest' in it.

"For those of you who have grown accustomed to visiting the wizarding village of Hogsmead, it is my disappointment to be the one to inform you that no students will be permitted into Hogsmead this year." Hermione had to guess the last few words as a chorus of boos and unanswered questions caused uproar in the Hall. The third years were especially indignant; this was to be their first year they were allowed into the village of Hogsmead.

Dumbledore waited until the students calmed down before continuing.

"While I do not pretend to think this is not a displeasure amongst you as students, it is not without reason." Dumbledore said, and the Hall quieted once more, waiting to hear why Dumbledore would not allow students into Hogsmead, and more importantly, what it was that had caused such a stir.

"I hope that every one of Hogwarts' students reads the newspaper, but I will not wallow in the delusion. For those of you that know, I apologize for this repeat of what you know, but for those who don't, there have been robberies, robberies of the wand, of the magic. A wizard or witch's wand, while not the magic itself, is an essential key in the use of magic and without it, a witch or wizard may find himself in peril.

"There is speculation as to the whereabouts of the thousands of wands that have seemingly vanished without a trace, but I believe only one." Dumbledore paused, and the silence was thick with tension and apprehension. Not a single word was uttered as the population of Hogwarts held to Dumbledore's every word.

"Centuries ago," he continued, "before Hogwarts was founded, before our Ministry was adopted, there was a war. A war between not one, but two races that bore the _virga_, the wand. The humans, the witches and wizards of today, and another race, the _Paululum_, fought for sole dominance of the world. 'For,' it was said, 'there cannot be two races of equal power.' And a war was fought. The humans forced the _Paululum_ deep within the earth, where they have been silenced for centuries, in what some call the eternal sleep.

"But they are not gone. Those that believe they have gone are fools. Merely assembled beneath the earth, the _Paululum_ are awaiting their moment to reclaim what they feel has been lost. The world. _Tempus Reverti._ Time to return." Dumbledore looked across the sea of upturned faces, most of which had gone gaunt with shock and perhaps fear.

"The world is a funny thing," Dumbledore said after a long pause, taking time to appear to look each of his students in the eye as he spoke. "Time…" he said, allowing the word to echo around the Hall before continuing. "Will always repeat itself."

A small bit of babble broke out over the Great Hall, and when Dumbledore finished his announcements, Hermione had not heard any of them, nor had the greater majority of the student population. Whispers were flying back and forth after the speech Dumbledore had just made. _Paululum_? They whispered, the name uttered as if it were the name of the Dark Lord himself.

Hermione had never heard of these _Paululum._ Never. Not once. And she did consider herself moderately well read. Surely she would have come across this race in her deeper studies of History of Magic. Something like a war between two dominant races surely should have – in the very least – _come up_.

As students were excused and began their migratory path to their respective dormitories, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore's explanation had made her head full with more questions than answers.

---

Looking down at the parchment schedule in her hands, Hermione made her way to her first class – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dreading this year's new teacher, Hermione pushed open the door.

Behind the teachers' desk stood a woman, with raven black hair and pale blue eyes. She looked… miniature. Her proportions were that of any other person in the school, just scaled down. Her height, as Hermione guessed, was about four and a half feet tall.

Tearing her eyes from the new teacher, Hermione cast her eyes about the classroom to find an empty seat. There were two: one next to Draco and one next to Harry and Ron.

"Damn," Hermione whispered aloud to herself.

"Please take your seat," came a voice. The voice sounded more like a hiss and croak than anything else.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Hermione said, but did not move.

"We cannot wait all day," the teacher said curtly and gestured Hermione to the seat next to Draco. Hermione took it, reluctantly, and didn't cast Draco a look.

"My name," the teacher said, taking her place at the front of the room, "is Professor Lacunami. I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year. In this class, you will not learn about 'dark' and 'light' or 'right' and 'wrong'. It is not about right or wrong, black or white. It is about survival."

Silence met these words, these words that set up what sounded to be a very depressing term in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Lavender rose her hand. Professor Lacunami inclined her head Lavender's way.

"Please, Professor," she said, "how can there not be a right and wrong? Isn't that what everything is founded on? Knowing the difference between what should and shouldn't be done."

"There comes a time when it is not about being a good person but about being a _living_ person." Professor Lacunami answered simply, and then flicked her wand at the blackboard.

"Page 247. Please read the author's views on the use of magic against an unknown enemy, and then prepare to have a class discussion this Wednesday. Your homework will be done from the chapter questions in the back of the book. There is no need to talk." Professor Lacunami instructed them.

The rest of class was spent with heads bent silently over books, drinking in the information.

---

"It is happening," the figure said, his congregation of minute citizens before him once more, watching. "The revolution has begun."

A roar of approval sprang from the crowd and fists were pumped into the air.

Finally… after an eternity of waiting, biding, it was time. Finally. Finally.

Finally.

---

By lunch, Hermione had completely forgotten everything except her growing annoyance with someone whose name was Draco Malfoy. After steadily ignoring her through their entire Herbology class, in which they were partners, and brushing her off completely when Pansy came into view at break period, Hermione was ready to whack him upside the head.

"Draco." She said sharply, but he paid her no mind. "_Malfoy_." She said, heavy annoyance dripping from his name like blood. He finally turned to look at her.

"What?" He demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm busy."

"Busy with _what_?" Hermione demanded in the same bossy tone he had taken with her. "Shoving your head further and further up your—"

"Better watch your mouth, Granger."

"What's your problem?" Hermione asked, giving him a cold look of indifference, despite the Hermione inside of her, crying out to be heard, the one that wanted to beg him to stop acting like this. The same one that wanted her old friends back and her life to be back into the order she had once believed it to be in.

"You." He said simply, not showing a trace of emotion.

Hermione had no snappy comeback for this response, because she hadn't expected it.

"M-me?" she choked out in a hollow laugh, halfway between sorrow and scorn.

"Yeah, Granger, you." He said, and turned away from her again.

"What do you—" Hermione began, but never had the chance to finish as Pansy skipped over to Draco and ruffled his hair. He didn't even bat an eye and he left Hermione standing in the hall, shocked, the rest of the students milling around her, not even noticing her solitary figure as she watched Draco's disappear into the rest of the crowd. She felt like the world had stopped dead still.

_I'll kill him_.

---

This chapter was shorter than the other ones, and I am sorry, but I just see no way to lengthen it. I updated at least, right?

Please, please, please review! I want to know what you think.

THANK YOU for reading!

- - Saquoia - -

_Hey, for those who were wondering, Professor Lacunami's name is pronounced 'la-soo-NAM-ie'._


	8. Tutoring

Chapter Eight – Tutoring

Hermione was finishing her notes for today's Transfiguration lesson. She remained the only person with notes still out, everyone else had whisked their own notes away when the clock boasted thirty seconds until class was to be let out.

"You will find the topic for your essay on page nineteen," Professor McGonagall said as her class rushed to find somewhere to write their assignments. Class was due to let out any minute, and _second_, and absolutely no one wanted to hear the homework.

"Please make it a minimum of twelve inches." Groans rose from the half-hearted, sixth year listeners. Then Professor McGonagall added, looking directly at Ron as she spoke, "your letters should not be two inches tall, either, Mister Weasley." Ron turned a slight pink color, but other than that, showed no reaction.

"That is twelve inches of writing with more content than the gossip column of the _Daily Prophet,_ understand?"

The bell rang and everyone hastened to be the first ones to make it to the door and out into the halls, a few milliseconds closer to freedom than the rest of their peers. Hermione was amongst the shuffle when she heard Professor McGonagall say, "Miss Granger, might I have a word with you?"

Sighing and thinking 'What on earth now?' Hermione disentangled herself from the queued up students all fighting to make their way out of the room and made her way to Professor McGonagall's desk. She was already getting an ache in her back where she was bent in an uncomfortable position to support the weight of her book bag. She resolved to not carry around so many books at one time.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked lightly, setting her bag down so its weight wouldn't cripple her completely as she waited. Professor McGonagall did not answer until the last student had left the room to go to their next class.

"I have a favor to ask of you." Professor McGonagall said, straightening the pile of papers she had in her hand and she put them in a drawer in her desk before straightening and looking at Hermione.

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione repeated, wanting her to get on with the point, but too polite to come right out and say so.

"I have a new first year student, Tracy Rexinson," Professor McGonagall explained, "and she is in need of some tutoring. She hasn't grasped the concept of Transfiguration quite yet, and I think with the proper one-on-one attention and some application of her concentration, she can get it. Can I count on you to help her?" The look on Professor McGonagall's face didn't leave Hermione much leeway. It was apparent that even if she hadn't wanted to, she was expected to acquiesce.

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said instantly, smiling sweetly at her Head of House. Hermione didn't see anything wrong with tutoring this girl – Tracy, was it? – after all, maybe Tracy would share Hermione's passion for Transfiguration.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall said, and gave Hermione a rare smile.

---

"You're late." A voice pointed out monotonously, almost mockingly. Hermione looked for the source of the voice and found that the only figure her eyes landed on was a small, dark-haired girl sitting at a table in the library looking up at her indifferently through her hair hanging in her face. So this must be her student.

"Yes, I'm so sorry." Hermione began quickly. "I got really caught up in my History of—"

"I don't care." The girl said dryly, looking up at her through dark locks of hair that hung across her face. "Can we just get on with this study group or whatever it is? I have better things to be doing than sitting in a library with some sixth year Transfiguration nerd."

"I'm not a nerd." Hermione said at once, remembering the names she was used to being called, both in the muggle and wizard worlds. She wasn't a nerd, or a geek, or anything else, she just enjoyed school and learning. That was all.

"I'm sure you're not." The girl said sarcastically with a wry tone of indifference. Hermione chose to ignore the tone this first year had chosen to use with her and put down her books on the table before sitting across from the dark-haired girl.

"So, you're Tracy, Tracy Rexinson, right?" Hermione asked, getting out her old Transfiguration book with which to help the girl study. It was still shiny as the first time she had gotten it, despite its age. She could remember when she had bought this book, the summer before her first year. She had been so excited—

"No," the girl said with cruel scorn, the smirk about her face reminiscent of Draco. "I just thought I'd talk to you since you're _so_ interesting."

"Okay," Hermione said, still fighting to ignore the tone this girl had chosen to adopt. Now she could see why Professor McGonagall had been so thankful for Hermione's consent. _She_, Professor Minerva McGonagall, didn't want to deal with this student, so she let Hermione deal with her instead. Lovely. "Well, I'm Hermione Granger—"

"Oh," Tracy cut in, a look of comprehension dawning on her half-hidden face. "So _that's_ why McGonagall chose _you_." Tracy said, looking Hermione up and down once. The expression upon her face was not too flattering or kind.

"What do you mean, chose _me_?" Hermione asked, copying Tracy's hateful tone. "What have you heard about me?" She demanded.

"I've heard… things about you." Tracy said simply, and offered no more of an explanation.

"Okay…" Hermione said slowly, and when Tracy did not offer up any more information, she opened her Transfiguration book. "What part of Transfiguration are you having trouble with?" Hermione asked, flipping to the table of contents.

"All of it." Tracy offered helplessly, shrugging in a manner that showed she didn't really care, either.

"Well," Hermione said, flipping to the first chapter. "Then maybe we should—"

"I don't want to study Transfiguration." Tracy declared, looking to Hermione for a reaction.

"Then… what are we going to do for the next hour?" Hermione asked, confused. Tracy looked over Hermione again, but said nothing to her. This was starting to get annoying. Okay, so it was really annoying.

"You're Hermione Granger." She said eventually.

_No way_. Hermione thought. "Yes, I know."

"And your boyfriend is Draco Malfoy." Tracy laughed quietly. "Sort of an ironic relationship, isn't it? I mean you and _him_." Tracy said and laughed again. Tracy found this more humorous than Hermione did.

Hermione eyed Tracy. How did she know? Hermione had started to concoct strange stories about Tracy and where she got her information before she told herself to 'drop it' and decided that 'any first year could have heard about her and Draco'. From anyone, practically. She was just reciting stories. Bully for her.

"I know his father." Tracy declared.

"So do I," Hermione said quietly, not allowing herself to think of Lucius Malfoy.

"I spoke with him before school." Tracy continued. "Well, actually, my father did. But same thing, really, if you're into specifics. Everything my father sees, I see. I do what he does. Know who he knows. I basically am my father, if you catch my meaning."

Hermione said nothing, mostly because Tracy had confused her.

"He's not happy with you." Tracy continued, playing idly with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger lazily. "Lucius, I mean." She looked smugly pensive for a moment before she turned back to Hermione, making eye contact once more.

"Not happy with his son, either." Tracy pointed out. _No duh_, was all Hermione could think. Upon getting no reaction from Hermione, Tracy said, "So I was right, then."

"Right about what?" Hermione demanded.

"Trouble in paradise," Tracy said haughtily, almost enjoying herself. "I knew it would happen, I mean, come _on_, you had to realize it would, too. You're not stupid. Not according to all my teachers, anyway. I have found evidence to the contrary. So, why is it that you couldn't see this one coming?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Hermione asked again. She wasn't used to feeling lost, and didn't like it.

Tracy smirked. "You're into those stupid muggle phrases right? Let's see…" she thought. "'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree', Hermione. Did you _really_ think that he would be this 'knight in shining armour' for you? Tch. Even you couldn't be that naïve."

Hermione said nothing. The truth was she had _tried_ to be that naïve.

"He's going to be just like his father." Tracy said. "He _is_ just like his father. A liar, personal mercenary, a damn good actor, apparently."

"So, Transfiguration." Hermione said, changing the subject. She didn't need to talk about Draco with some smart-mouthed first year.

"You're changing the subject." Tracy pointed out.

"And you're avoiding it." Hermione said simply. "Transfiguration is the art of transforming things…" she began, and refused to speak about anything but Transfiguration the remainder of the tutoring session.

---

Hermione walked along the soggy Hogwarts grounds, making her way to Herbology. She had no idea what they were doing today, but hoped it would be inside as it was beginning to rain. The clouds overhead didn't exactly promise light showers, either.

"Hey, Hermione," said a voice.

She turned around and saw Tracy. "Why aren't you in class?"

"I'm shadowing you today." Tracy said. "McGonagall suggested it. Haven't you ever heard of the buddy program?"

Hermione stared. "No…"

"Shit." Tracy said. "I need to work on my lies. Look, I'm cutting class."

"And you're going to follow me into _mine_?" Hermione asked. "Don't you think you'll get caught if you do that? Don't you think you'll get caught no matter _where_ you go in this school?"

Tracy shrugged. "Not really."

"Well you're not coming with me." Hermione said, turning back to walking to class.

"No one will notice me." Tracy said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Of course they will. You won't exactly look like a sixth year."

"Don't worry," Tracy said, "I—" She broke off and Hermione looked around. She saw a couple of Hufflepuffs staring at her.

"Who are you… talking to?" They asked. Hermione looked at them like they were crazy and said, "This girl named—" when she turned to look back at Tracy, she was gone.

_Stupid first year._

---

Her next class with Slytherins, Defense Against the Dark Arts, did not go well. Mostly because she was partnered with Draco and spent the entire class _not_ talking to him. They got into an argument about who was going to turn in the project they had been assigned in class, as they had managed to break one of them, and the fight resulted in demolishing the other model of a Hungarian hex-system as well. Professor Lacunami was not impressed and gave them both twice the amount of homework to make up for their.

This did not serve to make Hermione and Draco more civil toward each other. Glaring at each other the entire way out, Professor Lacunami called them back just as they were leaving.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, I will see you in detention. Two weeks from now. Meet me in my office." She said and then dismissed them.

Hermione glared at Malfoy. "Thanks." She said sarcastically.

"Like I want to be stuck anywhere with you." He said back. He sneered at her. He started to turn and go to his dormitory, in the Slytherin dungeons but Hermione spoke first.

"Why are you such a jerk all of a sudden?" she demanded.

He shrugged, not turning to face her or even stopping.

"What's your problem?" Hermione called after him, but only got another shrug before he disappeared into the dungeons below.

---

During her third or fourth tutoring session with Tracy, Hermione had asked her to demonstrate her technique, and had been given quite a shock. Tracy had withdrawn from the folds of her robe a wand that Hermione recognized very much. A wand that she had used for the first five years of her schooling. A wand that had _mysteriously_ vanished during the summer.

"Where'd you get that wand?" Hermione demanded.

"What, this one?" Tracy asked, twirling it between her fingers, as if there were hundreds of _other_ wands about which Hermione might be talking.

"No," Hermione said sarcastically, picking up some of Tracy's bad habits.

Tracy shrugged, still twiddling around with the wand, seemingly unimpressed with the blue and purple sparks that fountained from the end. "Mum bought it for me." She said nonchalantly, and Hermione was almost inclined to believe her. She would have, if that wand didn't look so darned familiar.

"It's not yours." Hermione told her again.

Tracy stiffened and bristled slightly. "You saying I stole it?" she challenged, turning to look at Hermione.

"I don't know where you got it, but it's not yours." Hermione explained.

"Then whose is it?" Tracy asked.

"Mine." Hermione said. Tracy cocked an eyebrow and looked at Hermione like she was mad.

"You've already _got_ one." Tracy said, gesturing needlessly at the wand in Hermione's hand. True, she did have another wand, but as Mr. Ollivander had said, the first wand is always the best, sometimes wizards are never able to find another wand that will work for them. Hermione had been lucky to find a wand that would accept her.

"That one was mine _before_ I bought this one." Hermione said. "It was stolen when I was in Diagon Alley."

"Maybe you just lost it." Tracy offered.

"Are you saying I simply _misplaced_ my wand?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I might be." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Look, it's got my initials carved into it, and I can prove it's mine, if you just let me have it for a moment." Hermione said, stretching her hand out to take the wand from Tracy. Tracy looked at her suspiciously.

"Why should I believe you?"

"It's got my initials in it!" Hermione said again. "Look, read the initials carved just above the handle."

"TR." Tracy said.

"What?" Hermione said and snatched the wand from Tracy before she could protest. And there they were, clear as day, the letters 'T' and 'R', carved into the handle where Hermione had known her initials to be. "But… that's impossible…"

"It's not your wand." Tracy said, plucking it out of Hermione's fingers.

"But it… it _is_ mine, I'm sure." Hermione said.

"It's not." Tracy repeated. She seemed agitated, and her demeanor had definitely taken a turn from her usual, annoyed and monotonous self. "Can we just get on to studying?"

"Sure…" Hermione said, and they worked through chapter three, Hermione glancing up at the wand she would have sworn was hers every few minutes.

Something was wrong.

---

If anyone is still reading this story, I hope you enjoyed this!

- -Saquoia- -


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